


What the Hell

by skripka



Category: Firefly
Genre: M/M, improbable underwear, improbable underwear as an excuse to porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-12
Updated: 2004-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 19:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17751971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skripka/pseuds/skripka
Summary: This warrants some consideration.





	What the Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Hover for Chinese/Pinyin translations.

Mal entered Simon's dorm and stopped, amazed. "What the _diyu_ is _that_?"

Simon whirled around, clutching his pants to his waist. "What the _diyu_ are you doing in my dorm?"

"I was going to ask you a question, but damned if I could remember what it was now."

"Mal. Get. Out." Simon enunciated each word clearly, his eyes flashing.

"Nuh uh." Mal came closer, and tilted his head inquisitively. "This warrants some consideration."

Simon backed away, flushing. "At least shut the damn door."

A peal of laughter broke from Mal's throat. "Whatever you say, thong-boy." He turned and slid the door closed. As Mal turned back he raised his eyebrow. "Since when do you wear underwear like...that...?" His hand waved vaguely in the direction of Simon's ass.

"Since I realized it was comfortable. You might feel fine and dandy all flapping in the breeze, but I prefer a bit of constriction." Simon's eyes widened as he realized what he said.

Mal laughed again, and stepped forward. "Constriction? Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"You know what I mean."

"Yup. Surely I do." Mal let his eyes travel up and down Simon's body. "You going to put those pants on anytime? Or are you just gonna stand there holding them?”

"Depends." Simon suddenly looked thoughtful. "What do I get if I put them away?"

Mal smirked. "Guess that'd depend on how good your ass looks like in that thong."

Simon opened his mouth to say something, but shut it with a glare. "Fine." He laid the pants on his nightstand, and turned. "Well?"

Mal nodded. "Well. That is a fine ass."

"Are you done?"

Mal sidled closer, and draped his big hand over Simon's cheek. He leaned over and breathed in Simon's ear, "Not quite yet, _xinggan_."

Simon shuddered, but managed to gather himself enough to spin and face Mal. "Turnabout is fair play."

"Huh?"

"Turnabout is fair play, Mal." Simon nodded at Mal's pants. "I think it's time for you to strip."

Mal smirked. "Oh?"

"Yes." Simon said emphatically.

"Fine." Mal's voice was an uncanny echo of Simon's as he stepped back and slid his suspenders off his shoulders.

Simon just watched, eyes focused, hair falling in his face. Mal began to unbutton, and grinned when Simon glanced down. "You sure there, Simon?"

Simon didn't say anything, but his look brooked no argument. Mal finished with the buttons, and thumbed the waist of his pants down. And promptly fell back on the bed, struggling with his boots, as Simon laughed.

"Nice job. Need some help there, Mal?"

"Gorramit. How come they never have these problems on the Cortex?"

Simon grunted as he knelt and yanked on a boot. "Fantasy? Reality? Honestly, Mal. I'm a bit worried about your brain."

"Ain't my brain acting up right now, Simon."

"I'm not so sure you can tell the difference, Mal." Simon pointed out, wryly. He smacked Mal on the ass. "Lie down."

Mal frowned, but rolled onto his stomach. "We're playing this way?"

"My bed." Simon slid his thong off, and crawled onto the bed, covering Mal with his body. "I thought that was a given."

Mal shrugged slightly, and sighed when Simon nibbled lightly at his neck. "Just checking."

Mal sighed even deeper when Simon's hands began massaging his ass. "Mmmmm," he moaned.

Simon pulled back from where he was licking a cool line along Mal's shoulder. "Sybarite," he muttered.

"No fair using big words in bed," Mal complained, then jumped a bit as Simon smacked him again.

"No fair complaining when you're about to get fucked," was Simon's rejoinder.

Somehow, Simon had managed to get a hold of some lube, and a slick finger found its way into Mal's ass. He pushed back slightly, his cock trailing pre-come on his belly.

A second finger joined the first, stretching Mal, and making him groan in anticipation. "God, Mal. You should get fucked more often," Simon whispered in his ear and began to push in with his cock. "You look so good like this."

Mal could only push back and grunt in reply. Simon's dick was splitting him open, and it felt so hard and painful and good. Once he was seated, they both caught their breath for a moment. And just when Mal thought he couldn't bear it any more, when his senses were just about to overload, Simon moved.

His legs were forced apart; his body shook from every thrust. Mal heard noises straining to fall from his throat, and bit his lip to hold them back. When Mal felt he couldn't stand listening to Simon's ragged breathing for one more second, he felt a hand wrap around his own cock, and let his body thrust for him.

A few seconds later, he came messily over the bed, straining not to collapse in the wet spot. Simon followed, grunting and freezing, as he spilled deep within Mal.

Gingerly, Simon pulled out, and they both rolled off the bed.

"It's never so messy on the Cortex feeds, either." Mal muttered, as he took in the come-splattered covers.

Simon was finishing wiping himself off with a towel, which he then tossed to Mal. "Should I worry about you and these feeds, Mal?" he asked as he began to strip the bed.

"Nah." Mal replied. "What are you doing?"

"Looks like I'm doing laundry. Again." Simon sighed. "Maybe I should get you to do it this time."

"Why me?" Mal looked up at Simon's grin.

"Well, I wasn't actually _planning_ to have sex right now."

Mal's mouth dropped. "Are you saying this is my fault?"

Shrugging, Simon kicked the covers into the corner. "I was just getting dressed."

"You were wearing a thong!"

"Didn't your mother teach you to knock?"

"I think a thong is more than enough distraction to forgive any non-knocking."

"Mmmhmm."

"What does that mean?

**Author's Note:**

> insta. Hastily beta-ed by virtualinsomnia.


End file.
